


Chaotic Mind

by Angel_made_of_scars



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 23:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19733458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_made_of_scars/pseuds/Angel_made_of_scars
Summary: When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. When a reality meets a dream. When a reality meets reality.The angel is called across miles of Britain when he feels the demons broken wails. And he only knows true agony when he realized just what this dream entails.





	Chaotic Mind

When the two are on the same plane of existence, with their wings showing gloriously, or their forms altered, there is a certain energy. An energy only other entities, and witches, could perhaps feel. Because as soon as Aziraphale felt the shift in the air, a bitter cold, and an event horizon, like a steady electricity flow that may not stay steady for long, it was then that he knew. An angel was in dire stress. An angel was falling.

Or more accurately, it felt as if one was. Or we’re about to. But sudden thunder and lightning do not strike, nor did any bus stop, or bushes, catch fire. In fact, there was no sign of an angelic grace being lost anywhere. That’s when his telephone rang. It was of course, Anathema. And her words chilled him.

“Get to Crowley, it’s coming from that direction. Something must be wrong.”

Of course. Aziraphale has been too rooted to the ground to pinpoint the agony. He simply blinked and he was there, on the inside of the demons own home, where he could be burned alive for stepping. A divine miracle such as light speed travel took energy from him, and also registered to others. He, metaphorically, prayed Michael was not on earth for a nightly run.

As he looked around, he realized the noise he was hearing was most certainly agony, a wailing howl, pleas and cries of desperation. It was unlike anything he had heard from Crowley before. A recognition went to his head, the sound of an angel falling. The sound of a demon burning. The water. He couldn’t have gotten it on himself- he couldn’t-

He wasted no time in rushing towards the sound, societal rules forgotten and damned, and he plunged himself into darkness, the complete smell of desperation and sweat not at all pleasant in the darkness of the bedroom. He could hear the wings of the demon flapping madly against his own bed, the covers already torn off. The fact that his wings were even corporeal was in no way a good sign.

“Crowley!” He yelled, rushing forward to try to control the spasming. He tried to hold his wing but it knocked him over completely, the powerful blow enough to momentarily stun him, before he was up again, using his strength to coral the wild struggle, and stop one side of him from moving. He didn’t want to tear his feathers but it was all he could do to hold him still. If he had all his strength...

“Heaven forgive me.” He said in a rush, manifesting his bright white feathers, and using them to flap just so, enough to keep him steady and pushback against the demon with equal strength. He must have sensed the change, because suddenly his yellow eyes were open, much bigger than they should be, and he was wailing, screaming, trying to get away.

“Please! It burns- let me out! Let me- please! I’m sorry!” Crowley cried, trying to fight him off with not near as much strength as he had a moment before.

“Crowley, it’s me. It’s me!” He tried.

“No- no please don’t- please don’t use him- please- he didn’t do anything-”

“Crowley!”

“Let him go! Let us go!”

“Let there be light!” Aziraphale yelled, snapping his fingers. As soon as the room filled with white, Crowley stiffened, so still he almost seemed deceased. But Aziraphale could see his eyes adjusting, could see his wings disappear before his eyes, the broken feathers left behind.

“Angel?” He croaked, barely moving. Aziraphale fluffed his own wings before putting them away, letting go of Crowley ever so carefully. He still startled, jerking away when he realized they were touching.

“Get- no- get out! Out! Get out!” Crowley yelled, starting to sob. Aziraphale’s heart felt like it was physically breaking, and he stood his ground, as the demon began to get up.

“Out! Leave! Plea-” Crowley tried, stumbling barely a foot before falling, Aziraphale catching him immediately and lowering him back into the bed. He clung to Aziraphale’s jacket like it was his anchor to this realm, and maybe it was.

So he moved up onto the bed with him, and slid him over so that he could hold Crowley’s head on his chest, keeping a watchful eye on the bedroom door, the vent, and the window, just in case anything came lurking.

He stayed that way, for enough time that Crowley’s sobs quieted to cries, and his cries turned to soft sniffing and heavy breaths under Aziraphale’s hands, where he held his face close, and held his back safely with the other.

“Would you like me to-”

“No.”

“I was just going to offer to-”

“No.” Crowley said firmly, followed by a much quieter plea.

“Don’t leave.”

It was barely a whisper. He was just going to get rid of the light. But if he said no moving, no action, just stay... Aziraphale would stay for eternity, in this quiet, nighttime room. Instead, he gently moved his feet enough to get the sheet back, with Crowley’s grip on his shoulder and back almost painful, until he had to let go to pull it up over them. He was instantly back in place, shushing the demons oncoming cries, and holding his face gently, and his back firmly, a promise. I’m not letting go. And I will not leave.

Neither slept. When helped by copious amounts of alcohol, so much they couldn’t remember how to sober, maybe. Not this night. It was as the sun rose again and he finally dimmed his light with it, that Aziraphale spoke up, having enough of the quiet, and the lifeless body in his arms.

“I didn’t know demons had night terrors. Nothing... I can imagine, but nothing like that.” He said softly. There was silence for a moment before Crowley voice rasped.

“Like what?”

“Like- do you mean to say you’re going to act like nothing happened?” Aziraphale asked, sternly but quietly.

“You don’t understand.”

“What?” Aziraphale asked simply.

“Falling.” Crowley rasped, barely a whisper. Aziraphale’s heart dropped once more.

“I didn’t mean to.” Crowley said softly. Suddenly the tears were back, Crowley’s yellow eyes watering, but Aziraphale’s filling more than his, making his chest jump with breath, and his grip on him tighten. 

“It’s alright. I- I’m sure you didn’t. I think we’ve seen that... heaven isn’t always fair.” Aziraphale shuddered. It was all coming to him with no words being spoken. Crowley was dreaming of falling.

“I heard your name- you must have said it.” Crowley said, struggling not to break. Aziraphale didn’t turn towards him. They breathed in the silence before Crowley spoke again.

“I thought they got to you too.” 

Aziraphale broke, his hand that had been on Crowley’s head flying to his own mouth, silencing any strangled noise that attempted to come from the revelation. The truth that him burning was a horror so strong that it caused even the last bit of the agony.

“I’d do it all again angel.” Crowley spoke up, his voice quivering but bold. It scared him momentarily. 

“If I could save you. If I had to die to free you-”

“Crowley please!” Aziraphale yelled, making their ears both ring and cutting him off completely. The silence was deafening in its own terrible way.

There was nothing more to say. Tears falling from both of their eyes, Aziraphale’s instincts telling him to go, on the verge of fleeing from fright, not from Crowley, but the feelings of dread. What if Crowley was planning this? What if he wanted to make some deal, to keep Aziraphale free and safe? He could feel his breathing speeding up so heavily he was sure he may vomit the human meals he had consumed, but instead, he finally turned to see Crowleys face.

“Please don’t ever. Never! I wouldn’t be able to- live with myself. If I were the reason you...” Aziraphale trailed off, swallowing back dread and instead pulling Crowley impossibly closer.

“Please.” Aziraphale whispered.

“Stay.” Crowley echoed the thought, lifting his head to meet teary eyes.

“Always.” The angel choked on a harsh laugh, rubbing his thumb across the demons cheek. It was warm, and almost soft. It wasn’t danger or pride or arrogance. It was vulnerability.

“Hasn’t it always been always? Since the first day?” Crowley croaked, just barely cracking a smile.

It was enough. Aziraphale sobbed a laugh, a real laugh, and brought their lips together, the only sound that of Aziraphale rolling over towards Crowley even more and Crowley whimpering low in his throat, as he kissed back desperately. They broke apart between breaths, shared tears falling, and desperate hands clinging to Aziraphale’s jacket like he thought it was all a figment, while Aziraphale’s did much the same to Crowley’s cheek, much more gently.

“It’s not your fault.”

“You’re glorious.”

“It never was.”

“Don’t leave.”

“You don’t either.” Aziraphale said breathlessly, pulling them apart. Crowley sniffed and gave in to smiling just a bit.

“My Zira.” He said finally, laying back to look a him in the soft glow of morning.

“My good omen.” Aziraphale whispered, smiling back just as bright.

“What now?” Crowley asked, rather suddenly. He was suddenly tensing, becoming closed off, and Aziraphale could see it, literally, in the way his eyes became smaller.

“We make breakfast. And... we go back to normal, Crowley, nothing has changed.” Aziraphale said, attempting to settle him.

“Nothing?” Crowley said aloud, popping his jaw shut quickly. He looked away, feigning nonchalance. Aziraphale softened and took his face into his palm once again, kissing his lips gently.

“Almost nothing, if you like.” He said quietly. Crowley just nodded, almost fearful.

“Alright. Well, do you still have-”

“I keep the kitchen stocked, Angel. In case you’re to pop over.” Crowley said. Aziraphale smiled warmly. It made a shy smile come to Crowley’s red face as well.

“”You can always rest at my book shop as well. Maybe- maybe I could- lie with you- to keep you company. Stop the dreams early. Without alcohol helping instead.” Aziraphale said timidly. Crowley took his chance to capture Aziraphale’s lips this time.

“That sounds delightful.” He whispered.

Vulnerability. Cherishing. Warmth. Joy. All words Aziraphale could see expressed, and feel himself expressing. He smiled, and almost laughed. Crowley may not see it, but he seemed peculiarly angelic for someone so chaotic a mind. But then, wasn’t Aziraphale falling as well? Two halves, as they say.


End file.
